You're Gonna Go Far, Kid
by ThisManiac
Summary: With a thousand lies and a good disguise, hit 'em right between the eyes. My version on the origin of Harley Quinn.
1. Blame It On Bad Luck

Driving up the big hill and sitting in the shadow of the enormous building wasn't a problem. It was forcing myself out of the warm, safe interior of the car that was a challenge. My mind cried out for the comfort of the taxi we drove up in, but my legs wandered up the steps and into Arkham Asylum.

It was a place where only the sickest, most vile of all humans in Gotham were locked up. A tall building that warned all who looked its way of what lied within, with a haunting 19th century look to it's outside. Once we stepped inside, it looked like any other insane asylum would look like in the movies. The walls were a pale green, with linoleum tiles that squeaked underneath your shoes to add to the eery feeling.

A nurse at the desk asked for us to sign in. She was tan, with light brown eyes and flowing strawberry blonde hair. Her smile was almost forced, but just look at the place she had to work at. The scratching noise the pen made as it scraped against the paper sent chills down my arms. Looking down at my signature, it felt foreign and strange, as if it wasn't mine.

_Harleen Quinzel_.

Every single hair on the back of my neck stood on end as we walked further down the hallway and into the actual hospital. We turned a corner, and the visiting area sat before us. Tables with fold-out chairs were placed in the center of the big room, with benches lining the back wall. A few other families were visiting, hunched over and whispering to each other. They were about as thrilled as the nurse was.

All of the patients were downstairs, in the room with us. Those who had no one visiting them sat on the benches along the back wall. A quick scan through the patients, and my breath was taken away. I spotted my brother, pale with light purple bruising under his eyes, but that wasn't what struck me.

Sitting to his right, a patient in handcuffs leaned back against the pale green walls with a smirk on his face. A guard with a shotgun stood next to him, making sure to glance down every other minute. It was his face that stood out to me. It was covered in face paint, like a clown, black eyes and a big red smile. As we got closer, I noticed that the red smile was actually covering scars shaped into a big smile on his face.

A chill ran down my spine as he turned his head in my direction. His hazel eyes scanned my body up and down, and then he looked me right in the eyes. I felt my hands shaking at my sides, and then I heard my cellphone fall on the floor. The patient threw his head back and let out a loud, mocking laugh — bringing a picture of a hyena to mind.

"Harleen !" Sam, my older brother, wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. It was back to reality: he was in here because he had tried to kill himself, and that was the only reason I was here too.

A nurse escorted us to the table nearest to the clown, and I was forced into sitting with my back facing him. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, and everytime I snuck a glimpse at him, he was staring right at me. A knot had formed in my stomach, and I had to get up and ask for the bathroom.

A nurse showed me to a bathroom with only a toilet and a sink. No mirrors for obvious reasons. I leaned against the wall, trying to make the nausea go away.

_Calm down, Harleen. He can't hurt you._

Once I had regained my composure, I made my way back to the table. Again, I could feel his eyes on me as I walked across the room to my chair. I tried my best to ignore him.

"Harlequin." I turned quickly to look at him. He was smiling, his yellow teeth showing and the red smile reaching from ear to ear. "Harley Quin."

"Excuse me ?" Breathe. I forgot to breathe and I nearly choked on my own words.

"Harleen Quinzel becomes Harley Quinn."

A chill ran down my spine, turning my legs to jello. I fell to the floor, causing the guards to grab hold of the clown. A couple of nurses ran over to me, helping me into a chair. They dragged the clown, who was laughing with his head thrown back, out of the visitor's area.

That was the first time I ever met Mr. J.

It took my family a month to convince me to go back to Arkham after that night. They threw things at me just to get me to feel guilty about avoiding the hospital. Your brother misses you. He can't make any progress if you won't see him. How do you think he feels being locked up and not able to see his baby sister ? Would you like to be in that situation ? Think of someone else for once.

Finally, I had surrendered and forced myself to find the will to go. Every hair on my body stood on end as I signed in. I pressed the pen down hard, trying to prove to myself that I _was_ Harleen Quinzel. Just cause he called me something else doesn't mean I had lost my identity.

Again, Sam sat by the clown, who now had two guards on either side of him. He cocked his head my way as I sat down at a table three yards away, with my back away from him. A big, yellow grin formed on his face before he began to roar with laughter once again.

"Hey, Harl." Sam gave me a weak hug and slid into the chai next to me. I kept my eye on the clown, but shot Sam a smile.

He noticed me staring. "He calls himself The Joker."

"What ?"

"The clown. He calls himself The Joker." Sam repeated, motioning towards the clown. "He's a psychopath. Kills for fun, steals and then burns the money."

I would be lying if I said that it surprised me, hearing that he was a killer. And obviously he's insane, just look at him. I gazed over to The Joker and froze when I saw him watching me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and switched the focus back to my brother.

"So, do you know when you're leaving ?" It was a desperate question, but it was lingering in my mind.

Sam flashed me a white smile. "Actually, they said maybe I'd be free to go by next Tuesday. Said I've been making lots of progress."

"That's great."

"Yeah, it is."

"You'll be home soon."

"And everything will go back to normal."

At night, I was haunted by dreams of The Joker. In my dreams, I would be on the rooftop of the Wayne Tower. The clown would be holding me over the edge, just barely gripping my arm hard enough to keep me from falling. And then, with another piercing laugh, he'd release his grip and I'd fall to my death.

"No !" I sat up in bed, with a layer of sweat covering my face. My heart stopped beating when I realized who was standing at the end of my bed, grinning down at me. The lightning outside flashed, and he was gone.

I sat in bed, trembling and trying to work up the courage to reach over to my nightstand and turn the light on. I did, and the warm glow of the light calmed me down a bit. I rolled out of bed and went over to the window, making sure it was locked.

"Have a bad dream, Harley ?" A gloved hand covered my mouth, muffling my screams of terror. The cold, sharp edge of a knife was pushing against my neck, threatening to cut open an artery and kill me.

"Scream, and I'll kill you." His voice was rough, and the stench of gasoline and smoke filled my nostrils.

He wasn't in the Arkham uniform, but instead he was wearing a nice purple suit. His hair seemed greener than ever under the moon's light, and his smile seemed even more dangerous.

"Get your things and the car keys. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes." He turned to leave, but I grabbed him by the arm. A picture of my family ran through my head.

"Don't hurt my family." Tears welled up in my eyes, making my vision blurry.

He stared me in the eyes for a moment, not saying anything.

"Please."

"Just hurry up."

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but for now I needed to grab some clothes. I pulled my duffel bag out from under my bed and began throwing in clothes, shoes, anything I knew I would need.

At least, I knew I would need them if he didn't kill me.

I threw the bag over my shoulder and slipped on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a sweater. I quietly crept down the hallway and down the stairs, and found The Joker rummaging through our fridge. He stuffed his mouth full of food from dinner.

"Are you ready ?" He spat, his mouth full of pizza. I bit my lip and thought, not wanting to mess up.

"Yeah, the keys are on the table by the door."

"Get them and let's go."

We walked out to the door, me following him. I knew this was the beginning of something knew. And I liked it.

Due to the silence between us, the long car ride was awkward. I watched the neighborhoods we drove through, not recognizing any in the darkness of the night. Every few minutes, I would glance towards The Joker, trying to catch a hint of cruel intentions before I was killed.

It had been five minutes, and I glanced over once more. He caught me this time. "What ?"

"I'm sorry."

"You can call me Mr. J if you want, Harley."

"And you can call me Harley, I guess."

He threw his head back and laughed. It sent a chill down my spine, but I liked the fact that I could make him laugh. It eased the tension between us, but my muscles remained tense. I still had my nails digging into the leather seats.

"You know, when your brother would talk about you, I never imagined you'd be this pretty doll." He talked with his hands, his eyes not on the road. "And then, you walked in. That's when I knew I needed to have you."

Another roar of laughter.

"I'm like...a cat ! I saw you in the fishbowl, and I just had to snatch you." He laughed once more. The way he talked about me as if I was food was beginning to scare me.

"You planned to steal me ?"

"Do I look like a guy with a plan ?" He stared at me with a blank look on his face. We were going sixty miles per hour in the dark, and he refused to watch the road.

_Yup, I'm going to die._

"You know what I am, Harley ? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one !" It was worse when he took his hands off the wheel. "I just _do_ things."

The car swerved and I screamed. Mr. J finally went back to watching the road, but it was too late. We were heading straight for a tree. He did a sharp turn to the right, sending me flying into his arms. We sat there in the middle of the street, catching our breath.

"Oh, Harley. I didn't know you felt this way." He cackled, it was so loud it actually hurt my ears.

"Just drive." I snapped.

"Harley, are you mad ?" He tried to act all innocent.

"You almost killed me."

Bad choice of words.

"Oh, you're surprised that I almost killed you ?" A knife appeared out of nowhere, and he began to rant. "You're surprised ? Really ?"

I pulled away, reaching for the car's door handle. I should've kept my mouth shut, cause now he was really going to finish me off.

"You're surprised ?!" He roared, coming at me with the knife. I brought my leg up and kicked him in the chest, sending him back to his side. The window cracked as he hit his head, and I could see the few drops of blood left on the glass.

I held my breath as he touched the back of his head, and then stared at the blood on his hand. Time stood still.

"You're feisty," He chuckled, the knife's blade shining in the moonlight. "I like that."

Oh yes, this was the beginning of a very long friendship.

Just as the sun was beginning to rise, we reached an abandoned apartment building. It was only four or five stories high, with faded red bricks on the outside, and dozens of boarded up windows. The main entrance had been closed off, but now there was a gap between the wooden planks. It reminded me of a drug house you would see in a movie.

"Home sweet home." Mr. J threw his head back, laughing hysterically at his own joke.

Almost every floorboard inside creaked, and it was almost impossible to breathe with all the dust lingering in the air. Broken pieces of furniture lay scattered in what was once the building's main lobby. I followed Mr. J up the staircase, which also happened to creak with every step, and onto the fourth floor.

At the end of the hall was my new home. It was an average size apartment, nothing too fancy obviously. The bare walls had newspaper articles here and there, with a big goofy grin scribbled onto Batman's face wherever he appeared. There was a rugged, brown couch and a TV set. The kitchen was decent; it had a stove and a refrigerator and a microwave. I could see there was only two rooms, and one was some sort of office or den.

"Go to bed, Harley." Mr. J threw himself down on the coach and began flipping through the channels. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

Taking his advice, or following his order, I dragged my feet into the bedroom. Exhausted from tonight's mayhem, I simply threw my duffel bag under the bed for now and collapsed onto the matress. The last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep was Mr. J's laughter.

It was cold when I woke up a few hours later, and the sun was just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. I sat up and remembered where I was. In the corner of the room, Mr. J stood by the window looking out. He turned to check up on me and smiled when he saw me sitting up.

"Oh, so you _aren't_ dead ?" His words were meant as a joke, but I felt the paranoia begin to build up once again.

I rolled out of bed and stood up. Normally, I would grab my clothes for school and head for the shower. But what was a normal morning routine for The Joker ?

As if to answer my question, Mr. J walked out into the living room and turned the TV on. I followed him without thinking, and leaned against the back of the couch. He watched without moving, carefully taking in every word he was fed.

"Do you want anything for breakfast ?" I mumbled. He motioned for me to go away, but spoke or turned to look at me. I sighed.

Some of the doors to the cabinets were missing or hanging on for dear life, and I could see what little food supply we had. An empty box of Apple Jacks sat on top of the refrigerator, and inside there were a few open cans of soup. I threw it all away and sat by Mr. J, but then my stomach decided to make a growling noise.

"Can I go get some groceries ?" He looked at me out of the corner of his eye briefly.

"Later," He said. "For now, we watch the news."

At last, the commercial had finished and we were back to watching the news. Footage of Arkham Asylum popped up, along with a picture of Mr. J. They rolled some security footage of him escaping, slicing the throats of two security guards before finally reaching the main entrance.

"Authorities are saying that The Joker escaped from Arkham around midnight last night. There is no word on a possible location, but authorities are asking that you all keep an eye out for this man."

A different photo popped up on the screen, and this time it was of me. It was a recent shot; taken about a month before Sam went into Arkham. It was obvious that I was much happier and healthier back then. My skin was not as pale, there was no purple around my eyes due to lack of sleep, and I was smiling.

No one would recognize me now.

"Harleen Quinzel went missing last night as well. She was last seen going to bed, according to her mother and father, around nine o'clock. When they awoke this morning, Harleen was already gone. There has been no sign of forced entry, but authorities have noticed that a large amount of clothes and personal items were taken along with the family's car." Oh shit, they could trace the car down and find us. "Her disappearance is being considered as a runaway case."

"We're going to have to dump the car into the water by the docks." Mr. J turned the TV off and began to pace in the kitchen. Back and forth, back and forth. "And we'll have to chop off your hair and dye it black so that no one can recognize you."

"Alright." I didn't care what he wanted to do at this point. It was a bit exciting to be on the news for once, to shake things up a bit.


	2. Hey, Miss Murder

After a week with The Joker, he really begins to get to you. I found the humor in his scars, the things he did, and what he made me wear. A day or two after he kidnapped me, I was dragged to some costume warehouse. Nobody could recognize us; my hair had been cut just above my shoulders and dyed a dark brown. Mr. J wore a beanie, sunglasses, and a hoodie. From a few feet away he looked like any normal 20-something year old would look. His make up no longer hid his scars, but thankfully the lighting in the warehouse was very dim.

"How can I help you ?" A woman came out of nowhere, offering a friendly smile. She looked just like my mother, a bit shorter and more worn out, and a feeling of nostalgia washed over me.

"Just looking." Mr. J was already browsing through a rack of costumes, with his back turned to us. "Getting an early Halloween costume."

It was April, and the lady shot me a funny look. I still needed to tweak my lying skills.

"Alright, just ask if you need anything."

I walked over to the rack Mr. J was looking through. His scars were much more visible, and I had a sudden urge to touch them. I knew better, though.

"Find anything ?" I asked.

"Actually," He pulled out a costume and held it up. It was a red and black spandex harlequin costume with a matching jester's hat. Diamonds were printed in various locations, and there were white ruffles on the neck and wrists. It was perfect.

"Let's go try it." I pulled him along to the little dressing room set up in the back of the warehouse. I took a mask off of a shelf and ran into the dressing room. Mr. J slipped into the rugged leather chair they had placed outside the dressing room.

A hungry look appeared in his eyes as I slipped out in the costume. I had everything on, including the mask, and I felt fantastic. Spandex hugged every curve on my body, outlining my figure perfectly. Pieces of hair stuck out from under the hat, but I brushed them back.

"What do you think, Mr. J ?" I slid into his lap.

I could only imagine how silly I must look trying to seduce Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime.

"A bit of face paint could help." He licked his lips.

"So you like it ?" The woman from earlier appeared, interrupting us. A low growl escaped from deep inside Mr. J's chest. "It's on sale, by the way."

"We'll take it." Mr. J mumbled, and I knew he meant it literally. I put a hand on his arm, trying to stop him from killing the woman.

"I'll pay for it," I whispered in his ear. "It's on sale, let's not hurt her."

It was obvious to the woman who he was, and she was shaking now. She stood there quietly, watching me grab my things and head to the cashier. I placed a fifty dollar bill on the counter and walked out, with Mr. J reluctantly following me.

In the alley, I slipped out of the costume and into my normal clothes. I didn't care who saw me naked, even Mr. J, because for now I felt dirty for almost killing an innocent woman. This was The Joker's game, and I was going to have to get used to his ways.

"Let's go get groceries." I slipped the costume into my bag and walked out into the street.

"There's a store a few blocks from home, it's run by friends of my thugs. We can go there."

"Alright."

When we got back home, it was already around six o'clock and the news was on. Mr. J laid on the couch and watched it while I put away the food we had bought. Boxes of cereal and Mac&Cheese, cans of soup, a loaf of bread, and a big bottle of Pepsi. It was decent compared to what we had before.

"Do you want anything for dinner, Mr. J ?" He hasn't eaten anything since I've been living with him, and I was beginning to get worried.

"No Harley." He snapped. I poured some dry cereal into a bowl and sat by him.

"Here, eat a couple of these." I took a Fruit Loop and slipped it into his open mouth. He stared at the news, not chewing. I put the bowl in my lap and tried to make him chew, slightly brushing my fingers along his scars.

"You wanna know how I got 'em ?" He flashed his yellow teeth and turned to face me now.

I pop another Fruit Loop into his mouth before he can get started. He groaned and quickly swallowed it. He pulled out a knife and began to explain, flinging the knife around as if it were a toy.

"My father was... a drinker. And a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not-one-bit. So - me watching - he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it! Turns to me, and he says, 'Why so serious, son?' Comes at me with the knife... 'Why so serious?' He sticks the blade in my mouth... 'Let's put a smile on that face!'"

The color in my face drained away.

"Why so serious ?" He cackled, finding this to be the funniest thing ever.

Now I knew why he was this way. He wasn't a sick, homicidal maniac. His father _made_ him this way, and he was literally scarred for life. A new sense of sympathy filled me. I wasn't the only one with problems.

He _understood_ me. I could relate to him.

A cold front had come into Gotham, draping itself over the city like a blanket of ice. The sun had gone down a few hours ago, bringing the temperature down even further. Tonight was Mr. J's first "night of fun", he liked to call it, since he had escaped from Arkham Asylum. We sat outside a bank, one Mr. J told me was run my the mob, and hid ourselves perfectly in an alley.

"What are we waiting for, Mr. J ?" The cold air was beginning to get to me, and I was beginning to regret not coming with a coat.

As if to answer my question, a man in a black leather jacket and sunglasses stumbled out of the bank. He was laughing to himself as he lit a ciggarette, only a few yards away from us now. This was our cue.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha." Mr. J mocked the man's laugh, stepping out of the dark alley and into the dim light of the street. He was waving his knife around as he laughed, a move I had become relatively familiar with over the last few days.

Eyes growing big, the man looked around for any sign of help. He stood still as soon as he saw the gun in my hand. We led him into the alley, where we could be sure no one would see us. He was stumbled over a random cardboard box and fell to the floor. I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing.

"Lorenzo Ugo," The grin on Mr. J's face stretched from ear to ear as he crouched down next to the man. His silver knife touched Lorenzo's throat and he immediately began to beg for mercy.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" His Italian accent was thick.

A drop of blood appeared underneath the knife's blade. It ran down his neck and disappeared under his jacket's collar. Mr. J pressed harder. "Didn't think you'd see me again, did ya ?"

"Please! I have four kids!" Lorenzo begged more as another drop of blood trickled down into his jacket. If I had understood right, this was the man who got Mr. J put away. He couldn't be trusted.

"You really ought to smile more." His cries of pain sent chills down my back, but he deserved this for what he did. Right ? The knife was dragged through his cheeks to form a smile just like Mr. J's.

"Please," Lorenzo trembled in fear as Mr. J stood up and stepped back to get a good look at his work. He put the knife away and leaned down to pat Lorenzo's head softly.

"I'm not going to kill you." He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the words. He had gotten off lucky with these scars, and with the money he was making helping out the mob he could get surgeries to fix them anyways. "Harley is going to kill you."

Shock hit me and Lorenzo at the same time, and we shot disbelieving looks toward Mr. J. There was no point in arguing, I knew what he was capable of now. Lorenzo's scars burned as his tears reached his scars. He prayed softly to himself, holding onto a bloody rosary that hung around his neck.

"Come on Harley."

My hands shook violently as I pulled the gun up and aimed for Lorenzo. A conversation between Sam and I crept back into my mind. _Shoot the head, it kills you faster. No, shoot the heart. _I switched my aim from his head to his heart, back and forth and back and forth.

"Please." Lorenzo begged as he saw down the barrel of my gun. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to hold myself together.

"Shoot him."

"Please miss."

"Harley, just shoot already." I knew by Mr. J's tone that I was going to be punished when I got home. I had to be prepared for the worst. What was the worst he could do ?

It was deafening, the sound that the gun made. I flew back a foot from the force of the gun, bumping into a trash can and sending it to the floor. My arm hurt, and I felt a bit sick to my stomach.

Lorenzo's body slide sideways, a thick stream of blood flowing out of the hole in his head. His hand was still holding onto the rosary, and the cuts on his cheeks were still bleeding. It was still him, but without that little spark of life that had been there only a minute ago.

I had killed him.


	3. Whats The Hook, Whats The Twist ?

_Harley, you've been a bad girl._

"Huh ?" I opened my eyes to meet Mr. J's eyes, just barely an inch from my face. His eyes were the color of dying grass; green fading to brown. They stood out against the black and white face paint he wore around his eyes. "Are you going to rape me ?"

_What the hell kind of question is that, Harley ?_

"It's not rape if you enjoy it." A shiver ran down my spine. He stepped out of bed and stretched his arms, yawning. A sleeveless white shirt and a pair of striped purple boxers was all he wore. It was the first time I had seen him anywhere near naked, and I liked it.

His body wasn't very muscular, but he wasn't at all weak and helpless. His arms were a bit muscular, not by much, but there was something there. He had the same chicken legs most other men have, although he wasn't as hairy. His arm and leg hair was brown, unlike his full head of green hair.

If only it was the same for him: seeing me naked, or almost naked, for the first time. My naked body was by now as common to him as the couch was. I was just _there. _When I would change, he would watch me. Or if I left the bathroom door open, I could catch him peeking at me from the living room. Didn't seem to bother him at all.

"What are you thinking about, Harl ?" Oh, why did he have to be nice to me on a morning like this ? Was it because of the guilt I was feeling from last night ? I just want to crawl under a rock and die.

"Nothing." I rolled out of bed and dug through my duffel bag. A simple baseball tee and a pair of denim shorts would have to do for today. Why bother taking a shower if I was going to feel this dirty anyways ?

Pulling my hair into two little pigtails, I began to strip out of my jester suit. Avoiding his gaze, I stood there naked for a minute. His eyes burned into my flesh, and I grabbed the sheet to cover myself.

_Put the sheet down. You want him to see you, don't you ? Admit it, Harley. You're head over heels in love with this man. Just like your friends used to say, the only way to a guy's heart is through his co__－_

"What would you like to do today, puddin' ?" Aw, he called me puddin'.

"What do you mean, Mr. J ?" Talking to him made me forget about my insecurities, and I threw the sheet back onto the bed. My jeans were looser than ever; all this chaos was wearing me thin, literally. The shirt had always been a bit big, so I didn't see much of a difference.

"You did good last night, Harl." His sincerity was begin to melt my heart; I hadn't expected a _reward_ for killing a man.

_When it comes to Mr. J what exactly do you expect, Harley ? _

"Let's have a party."

When night came, it seemed to bring along all the festivities of a grand feast. We pulled up to an abandoned warehouse, which was already surrounded by at least a dozen cars. Through the one of the big windows, I could see the warm glow of a fire. Were they going to force me to burn someone alive ?

_Don't be silly. _

Walking into the warehouse, it might as well have been a birthday party. A giant bonfire at least ten feet wide sat it the middle of the room, flickering away. All of the goons I had met, and more, were sitting around the room. The clapped when they saw me.

All this attention made me feel like a million dollars. I wore my now dirty blonde hair down; it had grown so that it was cascading in waves halfway down my bare back. The dress I wore had been stolen; a blood red number that revealed my pale chest and back. Tonight I wore only heavy black eyeliner and mascara, not trying to match my everyday jester costume.

"Let the party begin !" Mr. J had grabbed a beer from a table nearby and was chugging it down. He didn't look that bad either.

He wore his finest purple suit, with his hair slicked back and his make-up fresh. Instead of the usual musky smell of gasoline and smoke, he had actually worn cologne. Shoes polished, tie in place, he was _gorgeous_. All my energy was being used to keep myself from throwing myself on him, especially when he was treating me so great.

_Don't sabotage yourself, kid. Enjoy the party._

Music played by a group of goons rang in the air. Mr. J threw down his beer and took my hand in his, leading me to what was supposed to be the dance floor. We spun round and round, in perfect unison.

"Start wearing purple, wearing purple. Start wearing purple, for me now." One goon sang above the rest, in a thick Ukrainian accent. "All your sanity and wits, they will all vanish. I promise, it's just a matter of time."

Truer words had never been sung. The sound of accordions and guitars filled the air. A group of three or four belly dancers shook their hips around the fire, adding the effect of bangles along with the music. Our little dance floor was growing larger and larger as people began dancing.

Who cares about them ? Our faces were almost touching, me and Mr. J. If I wanted to, and I _really_ did want to, I could have kissed him right then and there. Something deep inside told me that I better wait for the house to pull a move like that on Mr. J. His eyes gleamed in the light of the fire, and I could tell he was having a good time too.

_All good things must come to an end, Harley. _

_Eventually._

**Alright, this is the third chapter to my Harley Quinn/Joker story. I'm sorry for taking so long to update, so I hope you like what I've brought to this chapter. Reviews would be appreciated ! Next chapter will hopefully be here within one or two weeks !**_  
_


	4. I Get It

Winter had hit Gotham with a vengeance, leaving every surface with a layer of snow or ice. It was deadly to go outside without at least five layers of clothing, frostbite was not unlikely in this weather. But who in their right mind would even dare to go outside in this weather ?

_Well, you're not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, Harley ?_

I've got a point there. I rush inside our abandoned apartment building and shake the snow off of me. Once again, I'm greeted by a couple of Mr. J's thugs. He's been doing that lately, hiring men and letting them hang around our place. They eat our food, take up space, leave messes for me to clean.

How was I supposed to spend any time with my puddin' ?

Layer after layer, I peeled off my clothes until I wore only a pair of jeans, black boots, and a warm oversized sweater. I pulled my hair, which had gone back to its normal shade of blonde, into a messy bun. All the while, the thugs watched me with their bloodshot eyes.

_Oh, so we got druggies for thugs ?_

"Where is Mr. J ?" I asked one of the thugs. He was a tall, tan man with shaggy black hair. His eyes were icy green, like chocolate mint ice cream, and he wore a sly smile on his face. He kept his hands in his pockets.

"Boss is upstairs." He looked me up and down. I hated his eyes. I hated his smile. I hated his Brooklyn accent. I hated the thoughts going through his head.

_I hate him._

"Harley !" Mr. J's voice boomed from four stories up. I could tell he was frustrated, and there was some reason that involved me behind his anger. Maybe he had found the pile of dirty laundry still waiting to be washed. Maybe he noticed that I had forgotten to take the trash out.

"HARLEY !"

_You are so screwed, kid._

"Yeah, puddin' ?" I rushed into our bedroom, out of breath. Was it from running up the stairs so fast or from the anticipation of what was waiting for me at the top of the stairs ?

"Harley, have you seen this place ?" He hissed, arms flailing around the room. The bed was not made, there was still a pile of laundry that needed to be washed, and many other things that needed to be cleaned up.

Out in the living room there were bags of Doritos and Pepsi bottles left empty. Stains from the Doritos had been rubbed into the couch, leaving spots of orange dust on our couch. A couple of open beers lay on the coffee table, dripping out onto the floor.

Don't even get me started on the kitchen. Cans of half eaten soup sat alone on the kitchen counter, there were bread crumbs everywhere, empty boxes of cereal were left on top of the refrigerator. Sometimes you could see a cockroach run across the counter before disappearing once again.

_Lucky cockroach._

"I'm sorry, puddin'" If only he was looking at me, I'd pull the puppy-dog-eyes on him. It always worked on Sam when I wanted something.

How is Sam, Harley ?

"You know what, Harl ?" Taking hold of my chin, he forced me to look into his hazel eyes. I flinched as his grip on my face became stronger and stronger. "I'm starting to think I've been spoiling you."

Not a word from me. Not if I wanted to live, thats for sure. I stood there with my arms behind my back. Where was he going to go with this ?

"If you don't start pulling your weight around here," A knife appeared in his other hand, and his grip tightened even more. How was this not breaking my jawbone ? "I might just have to finish you off myself."

Kill me ? My puddin' wants to kill me ? After all I have done, that dirty, old, and useless _clown_ wants to kill me ? And do you know who's fault this is ?

You guessed it: the thugs.

* * *

Tears stung at my eyes, threatening to spill over as I dug through the duffel bag full of clothes. Half-empty bottles of make up. Cheap perfume my aunt had given me. Bright red lipstick. Leggings. Boots. A denim mini skirt. A tiny Rolling Stones t-shirt. And a long leather trench coat.

_What other choice do you have, Harley ?_

I know, I know. I've heard it all before. You're a girl, it's only natural to fuck men. It's a quick way to earn cash. It won't be that bad.

Not bad ? Not _fucking _bad ? I'm going to have to fuck men that I not only despise, but that I _don't even know_. Barely legal and being forced to sell myself because of those stupid thugs.

As usual, there were thugs sitting around when I stomped out of our bedroom in my new uniform. One of them choked on his dinner and the other one just stood there with his mouth hanging open. Mr. J turned around from in front of the TV to see the big deal. Even _his_ eyes seemed to go wide.

"I'll be back later." I hissed as I threw my bag over my shoulder and stormed out of the apartment. My mind was racing too fast to even hear, or acknowledge, whatever Mr. J had yelled as I walked out.

* * *

_Surprising, isn't it ?_

At least half a dozen girls stood around on the corner, all dressed as skanky as I was. All of us were huddled under the street lamp, trying to keep as warm as possible in the cold. I shivered beneath my coat.

Other girls wore _less_ clothing than I had on. It must be a desperate business if girls were still half naked in the freezing weather. A silver SUV pulled up, the man behind the wheel stuck out his hand and pointed at one of the girls. She walked over to the window to negotiate.

At least four more cars drove by, leaving me alone with only two other girls. And to be honest, they were pretty normal compared to the way they were portrayed in movies.

"You're first time, eh ?" Out here in the dark, cold streets of Gotham, we needed to stick together.

I smiled.

"My name is ﹣" A small black car pulled up. It was nice of her to take this guy. Her head turned in my direction and motioned for me to go to the window.

"He says he wants you." She mumbled as she passed me. "Be careful, this ones a _freak_."

Trembling. All I could do was stand there and tremble. And it wasn't because of the cold. The tears that began to pour out over my cheeks were almost immediately turned into ice.

_Be brave, kid._

"Harley." I didn't even need to look to know who it was. All my worries, all my fears: gone. A warm feeling, despite the cold weather, washed over me.

It was my puddin'; he had found me.

"Get in the car Harley."

_He cares, he really cares for you Harl.

* * *

_

Our car ride home is short, but the silence makes it feel like an eternity. There is no tension in the air. No anger. No disappointment. It's different this time.

Almost there...it's on the tip of my tongue...

Jealousy ?

Is Mr. J jealous ? The more I think about it, the more it seems possible. Why else would he go out in the cold and at this time of night ?

My puddin' does love me !

"Let's go to bed, Harley." For the first time in weeks, the house is empty again. There are no thugs or goons or whatever you call them around. It's just me and him.

Our little apartment is somewhat clean. Think Mr. J cleaned it up himself ?

Don't get ahead of yourself, Harley.

No, I know. It was probably the thugs. They're probably like dogs: they can sense when there's a natural disaster coming. And so, they fixed the place up a bit and then got the hell out.

"My bed." I sighed, falling backwards into the soft mattress. It was cool in here, so I scooted beneath the sheets. Mr. J followed.

"Now Harley, what were you thinking going out there," He ran his hand from my knee up my thigh and stopped on my hip. His bare hand slipped under my shirt; I shivered. "Dressed like this ?"

"I'm sorry." Shallow breaths gave me enough air to control myself...a little. My hands were already exploring his body, trying to unbutton his purple pants.

"Tsk tsk," His hands pried mine away from him and one of his hands held them tight above my head. "Let me take care of you."

_Got it, boss._

First things first: my shirt. His cold hands lifted it up until I slipped out of it. I had decided to go braless this evening. He planted rough, wet kisses on my chest and trailed them down my stomach.

He stopped at my mini skirt; first unbuttoning it and then pulling it down along with my leggings. I could feel his warm breath against my skin, and I was beginning to get restless.

Pocketknife in hand, he slid the blade under my black panties and cut them off. Fully exposed, all for my puddin'. Again, he began to trail kisses on my pale skin. It just about drove me nuts.

Wait, why does it hurt so much ?

"St-" I was too into it to say it out loud, so I just mouthed it. Stop. Stop. That hurts. My breathing got heavier and I began squirming, almost to a point where I was being violent.

And then, he sat up, and threw the bloody knife onto the nightstand. I sat up and looked down at my hip. He had carved a big J into my skin, and it was bleeding pretty bad. I didn't care.

"You're all mine."


	5. Pretty Girl

_Here is Chapter 5 for you. I know it needs a little tweaking; but it's almost 2:30 AM and I really wanted to give you something to read. I promise I'll fix it up sometime this week. _

_Thanks for reading and enjoy :)_

* * *

Right off the bat, Mr. J had plans for us. Big. Plans. His idea was to rob the bank where we had killed Lorenzo a few months back. It was owned by members of the mob, so we were sure to score big. Well, him and the thugs would. He wasn't going to allow me to go. Sexist ?

No: _genius_.

Turns out he had killed off each and every one of the thugs, leaving us with millions and millions of dollars to swim in. His escape was timed perfectly so that he was able to leave in a school bus without being noticed. Ah, my puddin'.

Piles of money were still scattered all over our bedroom floor. I sifted through them until I found what I was looking for: a push-up bra.

Don't get ahead of me just yet.

Tonight was Bruce Wayne's party thing for Harvey Dent. The bastard hadn't invited us, but I'll let that slide for now. With a provocative dress and a little extra support, you'd be surprised with what a girl could do.

First, we had to make me look like a totally new person. While I was doing our shopping a week ago, I found temporary hair dye on sale. So I picked up a couple bottles. Red hair ? Black hair ? Blue hair ? I could have any color at anytime now. Tonight, I chose a bottle of burgundy. I pulled my hair into a messy bun, leaving my fringe and little curled wisps of hair to frame my face.

_Will anybody notice ?_

A whole new person was looking back at me in the mirror; it was impossible to recognize me. I had added heavy eyeliner and mascara and a pale pink lipstick. It was all coming together pretty nicely.

Now: the dress. It was a nice little number I had bought with the money Mr. J had gotten. It was the typical little black dress: knee-length, tiny little spaghetti straps, revealing. The top half of the dress was sort of like a corset, which helped even more in the chest department, and then from my waist down is was nice and fun to spin in. I spun around and let the skirt blow up a bit. To top it all off, I wore a pearl necklace and held a little crème clutch with a handgun in itᅳ just in case. My high heels added the extra oomph I needed.

And honestly: I looked damn good.

"I'm ready." It was almost nine o'clock, around the time the little get-together was supposed to start.

_You enjoy yourself, Harl._

I will.

* * *

When we were a block away from the Wayne Tower, I got out wearing a faux fur coat. Mr. J and the new batch of thugs sped off to await their grand entrance. Oh, I can't wait.

Doormen were supposed to check for invites, but I guess these were taking it easy tonight. If you're all dressed up, you've got to be going to a party with the best of intentions. Right ?

Wrong.

_Oh so very wrong, dear._

Billionaire ? The magazines were right. Bruce Wayne really went all out on this one. At least a hundred people stood around, gossiping and babbling on like morons. I handed one of the men waiting by the door my coat and tried to slip in without being noticed.

First stop was the refreshment table. I grabbed a glass of champagne and took a sip. Yum.

_You're not twenty-one, kid._

I'm a murderer, a psychopath, and in love with a homicidal clown; underage drinking is the least of my fucking problems.

A helicopter landed outside, and everyone turned toward it. I almost choked on my champagne, causing people around me to stare. Lucky for me, Bruce Wayne stepped out with a couple of skanky girls in his arms.

_Jealous, Harley ?_

"I'm sorry that I'm late; I'm glad to see you've all gotten started without me." He flashed a big smile, arms still around the girls. "Now, where is Harvey Dent ?"

Harvey Dent, the blonde hair-blue eyed angel of Gotham, stood there looking more nervous as the seconds ticked by.

_Trust me, you better be worried._

"Where is Rachel Dawes ? She is my oldest friend. Come here," Oh cut the bullshit, man. I rolled my eyes and took another sip of champagne. "You know, when Rachel first told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say: The guy from those awful campaign commercials ? I believe in Harvey Dent ? Yeah, nice slogan Harvey."

Everyone snickered, except Harvey. Poor baby, he looked like he was just about to shit his pants. Talking crap in front of him ? Kudos to you, Mr. Wayne.

"And then I started to pay attention to Harvey and all that he's been doing as our new D.A. And you know what ?" We all went silent, and Harvey looked like he was in actual pain. True _physical pain_. "I believe in Harvey Dent."

And back to the casual chatting we go.

Half an hour later, the elevator doors opened. I had seen a pair of arms pull Harvey away from the party just seconds before, and I was furious. If only they had been a minute earlier.

"We made it." Mr. J and his group of thugs walked in as the room fell silent. He didn't know that Harvey had been taken away. A shot rang through the room.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We are tonight's entertainment." He strolled over to the little snack table and grabbed some fancy food on a stick. He shoved it in his mouth and threw the stick on the floor. "I only have one question: Where is Harvey Dent ?"

No one dared to move.

Mr. J pointed his shotgun at each person as he walked by and scanned them. He grabbed a girl's glass of champagne, took a gulp, and flung it over his shoulder. Everyone seemed to be glued to their spot.

"Do you know where Harvey is ? Do you you know who Harvey is ?" He walked down the line, slapping people in the face before moving on. "Do you know where Harvey is ? I need to talk to him about something. Just a little. Huh ?"

No one spoke. No one breathed. It was complete and utter silence.

He went up to an elderly man. "You know, I'll settle for his loved ones." It was true, I could tell. He grabbed another snack and popped it in his mouth.

"We're not intimidated by your thugs." The old man hissed. Mr. J stopped to look the man in the eyes for a second.

"You know, you remind me of my father." His hand traveled into his pocket and out came a pocketknife, which he shoved into the man's mouth. "I _hated_ my father."

"Okay, stop." Rachel Dawes walked into the center, arms crossed. I never realized my hair was the same color as her hair tonight; we looked a lot alike. Gross.

"Why, hello beautiful." I felt a sudden wave of enormous jealousy as Mr. J slowly trotted over to her, brushing his green hair back. "You must be Harvey's squeeze. And you _are_ beautiful."

I began to grind my teeth; my hands were balled up into fists at my sides. How dare he call her _beautiful_, whether it was a lie or not. What does she have that I don't ?

_Mental health, Harley._

"You look nervous. Is it the scars ?" I hated the way he got close to her, bringing his face right up to hers. "You wanna know how I got 'em ?"

Here we go. Let everyone know you aren't crazy or evil or anything they've said. It's not your fault you're fucked up.

"Come here." He grabbed Rachel's face, but she struggled and squirmed to get away. "Hey! Look at me." He boomed.

"So I had a wife, beautiful, like you, who tells me I worry too much. Who tells me I ought to _smile_ more. Who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks... " Rachel begins to squirm again as he brings the knife closer to her face. He gets angry again. "Look at me!"

"One day, they carve her face. And we have no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again, hm? I just want her to know that _I don't care_ about the scars. So... I stick a razor in my mouth and do this..." He mimics slicing his cheeks open with his tongue. "...to myself. And you know what? _She can't stand the sight of me!_ She leaves. _Now_ I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling! "

Rachel knees him in the groin, but Mr. J just laughs. "A little fight in you, I _like_ that."

"Then you're going to love me." Batman comes up behind Mr. J and kicks him to the ground. All the thugs that jump in to help get knocked over too, one by one. Mr. J and one of the masked thugs begin beating Batman, sending him to the floor. Mr. J's shoe has some sort of knife that sticks out of the front, and he uses that to kick him in the stomach. Batman knocks him over before moving on to take out the thug. Mr. J manages to grab a gun and put it to Rachel's head.

Batman stops. "Drop the gun."

"Sure, you just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are." Rachel is struggling to pry Mr. J's arm from around her neck. He pointed the gun at one of the giant windows and shot it to pieces, dragging Rachel over.

He held onto Rachel's arm as he dangled her out in the open air. It was all up to Batman now.

"Let her go." He demanded.

"Very poor choice of words." I bit my tongue in order to stifle my laugh as Rachel's screams filled the room. We were dozens of stories up in the air, who wouldn't scream ?

As soon as Mr. J let go, he moved out of the way and rushed towards me. He pretended to take me hostage, just so no one got suspicious. The thugs reunited at the elevator door and held it open for Mr. J.

_Quite a night, huh, Harl ?_


	6. In Too Deep

Here's the sixth chapter. I kind of rushed this one too, trying to get it down before it slipped my mind. I'm already working on the next chapter.

Thanks for reading :)

* * *

"I'm leaving."

All this running around with The Joker was driving me crazy. It had been weeks since I had been able to eat right or sleep well; the horrible headaches and mood swings were beginning to get to me.

I was just sick of it all.

Duffel bag open, I stormed around the room picking up any piece of clothing that was mine and shoving it into the bag. Mr. J was sprawled out on the couch, with absolutely no intention of stopping me.

Our bathroom was a mess. The mirror was scratched up and smeared with make up. I bent down to grab what was under the sink.

An unopened box of tampons caught my eye.

"Oh shit." No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten my period. It wasn't possible, was it ?

All it takes is one night, right ? And we _had _had our night, just once. One beautiful, wonderful night with my puddin'.

* * *

"_You're all mine."_

_Blood was running down my side and onto the sheets, seeping out of the big J he had carved into my hip. He was shrugging off his shirt as I lied there, gasping for breath. I ran my fingers up and down my side, smearing the blood over my pale skin._

_Mr. J was having trouble removing his purple slacks, cursing under his breath as he tugged on his zipper. It finally gave and he nearly ripped off his clothes._

_His skin smelled like cologne and gunpowder, a scent I had become too familiar with. It was an intoxicating smell, almost driving me over the edge as Mr. J finally tore off his very last item of clothing.

* * *

_

_Stop it, Harley._

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't. Hundreds of these types of scares go on everyday, right ? And usually its just some stupid girl overreacting, right ? I don't have anything to worry about except leaving this place, right ?

_Right, kid._

Box in hand, I stormed out into the bedroom. My duffel bag was overflowing with clothes I had bought with the money Mr. J had stolen. I felt dirty for even taking them with me, but I had no choice.

There was nothing more to say as I walked by the couch. I got one good look at him before I began to walk down the dark hall. I didn't hear any foot steps behind me, no begging for me to stay. Nothing that would give me any intention to stay.

He called out one last thing as I reached the stairs at the end of the hall. His voice radiated confidence and assurance.

"You'll come back."

I know I will.

* * *

Dozens of people crowded the mall, all looking for Father's Day gifts. It had been ages since I had thought about my father, and even longer since I'd seen him. I wonder how he's doing now, after all these months without any information on his little girl.

I found an empty booth at his favorite restaurant, Johnny Rockets. I sat in the far back corner, watching everyone walk in and out. Sipping on my chocolate shake and munching on fries, all was good.

Until Sam and his friends walked in.

Someone had taken over his mind. Everything about his appearance had changed. It was obvious that he had lost weight, losing his athletic look. His skin was paler than I remembered, and the dark circles under his eyes meant he had not slept.

He was dressing completely different too. Instead of the usual blue jeans and a t-shirt, he wore dark jeans and a sweater with black beanie covering his dirty blonde hair. He was into smoking pot now; I knew the guys from school. I caught him staring.

Those blue eyes had never looked so dull and lifeless in the years I had known him. They had lost the fun spark that had made Sam.

I put my head down and stared into my lap. Foot steps came up to the table, and then the booth squeaked as he sat down.

"Get out." My hand was on the gun in my pocket, tracing the trigger with my index finger.

"Where have you been ?" His attitude was uncalled for. He didn't know what I have been through in the last couple of months.

"I don't need this." I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder, pulling out a wad of cash. There must have been at least nine hundred dollars there. "Give this to Mom and Dad."

It took all my energy to force myself to go back, but I knew what I had to do. If I stayed here, they'd take me to Arkham and lock me up for life.

"You're not fooling anyone, Harley."

* * *

Our abandoned apartment building had never looked so beautiful, with its red bricks and boarded up windows. The front door was tilted open as if to welcome me home.

And it did feel like home, walking into the empty lobby. We had brought in a couch and a chair for the thugs to sleep on. Old newspapers were still scattered over the floor and the occasional rodent would run past, but I loved it more than ever.

Climbing the creaky stairs, I decided to take a tour of the building for once. The second floor was completely empty, with twice as many apartments as the fourth floor. Each only had one bedroom, and most were empty. In one of the tiny apartments I found a working treadmill, in another I found a mattress, and in another I found a set of pots.

On the third floor, there were the same tiny apartments. Each one was raided by yours truly. While going through one of said apartments, I was caught by surprise. A pair of hands wrapped around my throat and pushed me into the wall.

"I knew you'd be back." Mr. J breathed in my air, tightening his grip around my throat.

"Miss me ?" I brought my elbow back into his stomach, so he released his grip on me temporarily.

As usual, he pulled out his pocket knife and sauntered over to where I lied against the wall gasping for air.

"Welcome home, Harley."


End file.
